Silence – a poem

Sometimes words refuse to rise, rendering me mute, silent, as if I were invisible or non-existent. My silence is sometimes unconsciously created, other times consciously intentional, for whatever reason.


My silence is paralysis.

Strong emotions rise
like terrible monsters.

Anger is a big rat
gnawing at my heart,
rage is a large jaguar
stalking my soul.

is the mother of all,
a featureless face
full of danger.

My silence is sorrow.

Grief sunk down
to the marrow,
wrapped around me
like skin,

stuck to me like a shadow
to follow everywhere I go.

Silence is how I disappear.
A mystical mask concealing
my face, a portal to space,
sphere of nowhere, to null.

My silence is passive resistance,

when words are bait to hook
the huge shark lurking in the pool
of my bloody injuries.



About Poet Dressed In Black

Poet living in San Francisco. I like telling stories too. I'm an introvert, and I like, need, solitude. I find that depth is a rare quality. Someone once said to me, "You're a very deep person. It must be really hard living like that. Most people aren't that deep." I said, "Yeah. It is hard. It really is."
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